


Tomorrow, Maybe?

by whitepansy



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2227275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitepansy/pseuds/whitepansy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's another rainy night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow, Maybe?

**Author's Note:**

> ive never been more wrecked in my life. no.6 made me gay

You'd think he’d be over it by now.

You’d think, maybe, he would’ve gotten the clue.

But this is Shion. Poor, selfless, amazing, empty-headed Shion. Of course he wouldn’t have gotten the damn clue.

Because sometimes, when the wind’s howling against his house, rattling the windows and doors, and the rain assaults everything in its way, and the leaves are ripped off the trees, and the house is quiet, so so so quiet, he walks to the balcony doors and stares out of them.

He contemplates. He thinks. He remembers.

And with a quick pull, the doors open, and the muffled roaring of the storm rushes to his ears, significantly louder.

And without thinking, _he never thinks_ , he rushes to the edge and clutches the railing tight and screams, roars, right along with the storm, letting all the stress and depression and emotion all blow away with the strong, whipping wind.

He yells until he’s out of breath and then some, possibly tears trailing down his cheeks, or were those just raindrops, then takes another dragging, ragged breath and bellows with double the force.

Because Nezumi, wherever he is, could he be listening, is still out there, could he be lost, and not where Shion is, could he be hurt--

Then, then, slowly, white knuckles fade back, Shion’s grips loosens, and he hiccups taking another breath in. His breath wheezes out in one last feeble attempt to be as mighty as the storm, but it wears off and he's just a boy and he slides down against the railing as his face crumples and those are not raindrops this time, they’re far too searing as they rush down his face, reminding him of the times with another boy and his chest aches and it won’t stop.

Something in his mind says, 'Maybe tomorrow, he'll be back.'

**Author's Note:**

> based off this: dpdshouyou.tumblr.com/post/96206282968/


End file.
